


a nighttime visitor

by wafflesandkruge



Category: Nikolai Series - Leigh Bardugo, The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Confession, F/F, Fluff, Pre-Canon, i hate everyone but i hate you a little less <3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:29:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29416422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wafflesandkruge/pseuds/wafflesandkruge
Summary: Of all of Genya’s nighttime visitors, Zoya Nazyalensky surely was the most unexpected. But not the most unwelcome. Genya looked up from where she was sprawled on her bed and blinked twice, convinced she was seeing things. But unless there was another stunningly gorgeous Squaller her age she hadn’t yet met, that was Zoya herself standing in her doorway.Or a nighttime visit leads to an unexpected confession.
Relationships: Zoya Nazyalensky & Genya Safin, Zoya Nazyalensky/Genya Safin
Kudos: 10





	a nighttime visitor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thefirsttailor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefirsttailor/gifts).



> written for @thefirsttailor for a valentine's gift exchange event!

Of all of Genya’s nighttime visitors, Zoya Nazyalensky surely was the most unexpected. But not the most unwelcome. Genya looked up from where she was sprawled on her bed and blinked twice, convinced she was seeing things. But unless there was another stunningly gorgeous Squaller her age she hadn’t yet met, that was Zoya herself standing in her doorway, the special scowl she reserved just for Genya pasted on her face. Saints, Genya wished she’d get wrinkles from always pulling those ugly faces at her. She ran a hand over her hair to make it look presentable before sliding off the coverlet to her feet.

“Why are you here? It’s past midnight, you’ll get in trouble.” _Not to mention the fact that you hate me_. She quickly crossed the room and closed the door behind the other girl. She didn’t need the entire palace to be gossiping about her any more than they already did. This close, she could see the dark smudges under Zoya’s eyes, the wrinkles in her kefta she’d obviously tried to smooth out before walking in. It was the least perfect she’d ever seen her, but instead of satisfaction at seeing Zoya brought low, all Genya felt was concern. Which was concerning in and of itself. 

Zoya didn’t answer, instead fidgeting with the cuffs of her kefta. Her scowl was still firmly in place, but her eyes didn’t have their usual defiant spark. Genya tried to keep her concern off her face. She shoved her hands into her sleeves to prevent herself from reaching out and Tailoring away the dark circles. It’d been nearly a month since they’d shared a drunken kiss in a dark garden after a holiday party and ever since then, Zoya had avoided her like the plague. Like if she became associated with Genya, she’d be ruined. How else was Genya supposed to understand that?

“ _Some_ of us lowly mortals need to have their beauty sleep. If you’re just going to stand there like a statue, kindly see yourself out.” The words came out harsh. Genya did her best to look down her nose at Zoya, but the other girl didn’t meet her gaze. Instead, her eyes swept over Genya’s room, the white kefta draped over the bed, then Genya herself. Genya couldn’t help but feel like she was judging how everything looked- how different it was from living in the Little Palace with all the other Grisha. After a few more moments of silent judgement, she tossed her hair over her shoulder, the most-Zoya like action she’d done all night.

“I was bored,” she announced. She didn’t offer any further elaboration. Genya raised a brow and took a seat on her divan. She could sense this was going to turn into a conversation. Or a fight. One never knew with her. Zoya remained standing, her shoulders tight with tension.

“And?”

If she had come here to seek some kind of distraction- Genya’s fingers curled, her nails digging into her palm. She was not something to be used and discarded at will. Zoya Nazyalensky could find some other poor sucker who could overlook her horrible personality for a few kisses. 

“And I thought I would come see you.” 

Genya laughed, and Zoya’s brows furrowed. Was she really that dense?

“You’ve barely even looked my way for the last month. And now you sneak into the palace in the middle of the night like you’re committing a crime” Once the words started, Genya couldn’t stop them. “Are you ashamed to be seen with me? Is that it? The prodigy can’t be tainted by the Tailor?” 

Zoya looked as if she’d been struck. She shook her head slowly, her eyes wide. “No. No, it’s not like that. I just-”

“You just what?” Genya scoffed. “Wanted to prove you could have anyone and everyone?”

“You-” Zoya cut herself off, a frustrated expression on her face. “That’s not what I was doing.”

“Enlighten me, then.” She met Zoya’s gaze. She’d once spent hours trying to recreate that exact shade of blue with the powders in her kit, but like everything else about Zoya, it was irreplicable. And horrible.

Zoya took a seat at the end of the divan, the silks of their skirts brushing as Genya pulled her legs to her chest to make room for the other girl. For once, Zoya looked unsure of herself. Her fingers tugged at the fur of her cuffs, her eyes downcast as she opened her mouth, then closed it again.

“Well? Out with it,” Genya demanded. Saints, it was like trying to force a child to admit they’d stolen a sweet. She’d seen brick walls less stubborn than Zoya. At least brick walls weren’t impossibly pretty to the point of making her heart flutter every time she caught sight of them.

“I- I don’t know how to be around you,” Zoya finally said in a rush. A small breeze flitted about the room, making the candlelight flicker. “It’s confusing.”

“Confusing?” Genya repeated. “How so?”

Zoya looked like she’d rather swallow a frog than continue, but to her credit, she still ground out her next words. “To want. Rather than be wanted.”

“And what is it you want?” Genya asked in a near whisper, not daring to hope. Her nails dug into her palms hard enough that she knew they’d leave a mark later.

Zoya looked up sharply, a hint of her old spark returning to her eyes. “I think you can guess.”

“Oh.” A ridiculously giddy feeling blossomed within her, making her so light-headed she thought she’d float away. Should she reach out and take Zoya’s hand? Kiss her again? Both options seemed somehow too much and not enough for the moment. She tugged at the silk of her nightgown to occupy her hands, lest they be tempted to reach towards Zoya. She was sure her face was as red as her hair by now. “Well. In case you’re too dense to notice, the feeling is very much reciprocated.” 

“I’m not _dense_ ,” Zoya muttered, but there was a visible flush across her cheeks that hadn’t been there before. Her body language mirrored Genya’s, like she was afraid of getting any closer. “But I thought you hated me.”

“You’re a very difficult person to like.”

Zoya flicked a strand of hair back over her shoulder. “Ridiculous. Everyone likes me.”

Genya wisely decided not to argue that point any further. “You still haven’t told me why you’re here, unless you came here with the sole intention of declaring your undying devotion for me?”

“Of course not.” Zoya pursed her lips, her fingers rubbing the silver amplifier around her wrist. “If you tell anyone about this, I will steal the air from your lungs, Safin.”

Genya snorted. “Sounds romantic.”

“It won’t be romantic when you’re flopping on the floor like a dying fish.”

“I like fish. Herring are particularly tasty.”

Zoya rolled her eyes, but finally answered Genya’s question. Her gaze was fixed on a nondescript point on the wall. “I...couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I was back there. On the Fold.”

Something in Genya’s brain finally clicked. A few weeks ago, there had been an excursion to Novokribirsk with some of the Second Army, the junior Grisha among them on their first crossing. She’d heard talk among the nobles, laughter and money exchanging hands on how many of them would make it back. So many didn’t. Her gaze snagged on the rank insignia on the front of Zoya’s kefta. She’d been there.

Slowly, Genya extended her hand so it rested on the divan between them, palm up. A peace offering. After a moment’s hesitation, Zoya intertwined her fingers with Genya’s. Her palm and the pads of her fingers were rough with callouses from her training. She rubbed small circles with her thumb on the back of Zoya’s hand.

“I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?” 

Zoya sighed. “No. Not really.”

“Do you want to stay?” she asked, anticipating what Zoya really meant.

Zoya’s chin dipped slightly, the barest of nods. “I can take the couch.”

“Don’t be silly,” Genya said as she got up and tugged on Zoya’s hand to get her to follow. “The bed is plenty big enough for both of us. As long as you don’t snore.”

Genya climbed under the covers and moved back until there was more than enough space for Zoya. The other girl kicked off her boots and unbuttoned her kefta, tossing both unceremoniously on the floor. She stood there at the foot of the bed in her thin undershirt and tights, seemingly contemplating. Genya rolled her eyes. She almost missed Zoya’s usual brashness and prickly demeanor.

“I don’t bite. Hurry up, I’m cold.”

Zoya crawled under the covers, but balanced so close to the edge of the bed that Genya could just reach over and push her off if she wanted. Not that she’d ever be that petty. She tossed the blanket over her. Then it was just them, their breathing in tandem, their eyes wide with the exhilaration of something new. Genya reached out her hand again, and this time, Zoya took it without hesitation.

“I’ll leave before dawn so no one will see,” Zoya promised. Her voice was a near whisper, unbearably intimate. Genya wondered how many other people had gotten to see Zoya like this, her black curls spilled across the pillow, her cheeks rosy. At least she could be confident that of all the people Zoya had shared a bed with, she was the prettiest. She held onto Zoya’s hand a little tighter and pulled her closer until their breaths mingled.

The warm candlelight made Zoya’s skin glow, her eyes brighter than any jewel Genya had ever seen. She was beautiful, a saint straight out of a storybook. And she was _hers_. A small smile curled on her lips.

“Let them talk.”


End file.
